Broken
by Tragic Angel-Eyes
Summary: After an argument with his boyfriend, Jehan finds himself wonder alone on the streets of Paris. When he is attacked and raped, it's up to his friends to help him recover, and protect him from his attacker. Modern AU, Rated M for a reason!
1. Chapter 1

Jehan slumped against one of the dark walls of the Parisian streets. The distant sounds of traffic fading into a low drone.

That day everything seemed to have gone wrong.  
Enjolras and Grantaire had had another fight; the meeting had been awful. Both men were refusing to apologise, Jehan didn't know what had happened to cause said argument, but it must have been bad. Really bad; if Grantaire, who worshipped Enjolras, who supported him throughout everything, and who never thought that the leader was wrong about anything was refusing to back down on whatever argument had taken place. It must have been a really bad argument...

That was just the root of the problems. Because of their leaders foul mood, the entire of the Amis had been on edge, and aggressive. Saying and doing hurtful things that they probably wouldn't usually consider okay to say.

And then Grantaire had gotten drunk (or at least drunker). And Jehan had thought things couldn't have gotten any worse...

Most of the Amis had left as soon as Grantaire had finished his drunken rant, and been guided back to his flat by Bahorel and Joly (who had wanted to make sure he was okay, after all, when Enjolras punches someone, he does it hard enough to hurt... Even for Grantaire).

And that is how it ended up that Courfeyrac and Jehan had walked home together in an uncomfortable silence.

It had just been one of those days; he and Courfeyrac had then had a fight. Jehan let out a small whimper, at the memory. It wasn't as is he and his boyfriend never had fights, of course they argued. But not like this; it had always been something silly. Not like this. They'd always be sorry afterwards, kiss and laugh about it... Not like this.

_The look on Courfeyrac's face..._

Why had he done it? Jehan asked himself. Why? He'd been so angry he'd wanted to hurt the curly haired man that had just crushed his heart, and he'd known exactly how to do that.

A desperate sob, bubbled up the poets throat against his will.

Courfeyracs' words to him had been painful, enough to make Jehan flee to the street. But deep down the poet knew he was to blame; Courfeyrac would have never said anything of the sort to Jehan if he hadn't pushed him to it. Jehan could never remember feeling so ashamed of himself, he could recall the pain and shock he had felt reflected in his lovers eyes... Or was he now Jehans ex-lover?

The poet really didn't know right now.

Another sob wracked the young mans body, as he curled up into a ball, his pale blonde hair falling out of the braid he had spent so much tome on earlier in the day. He had needed to leave the apartment, and he hadn't wanted to be a burden to his friends, so he'd just wandered through the streets until he hadn't been able to walk anymore. The problem was that if he'd gone to stay with one of his other friends, he'd have had to explain what had happened, and that was out of the question. It might be selfish but Jehan didn't want his friends to think badly of him...

So absorbed in self-hatred was Jehan, that he didn't notice the person nearby until they spoke.

"Well, well, what have we got here."

Straining his neck to luck up at the man, Jehan sniffed trying not to sound as pathetic as he felt. Sickening dread settled in the pit of his stomach.

The stranger was much taller than him, in the darkness a distant street light illuminated only half of his face. His hair was dark, he had a pale face with high cheek bones, Jehan might have considered him handsome were it not for the sadistic gleam in his dark eyes.

The man knelt down so that he was at the poets level. Jehan felt an arm come to rest on his shoulder "I suggest you keep still," a voice hissed in his ear making the poet cringe away in fear. The hand on his shoulder tightened, pulling him upwards so he was pressed against the wall. Ignoring the strangers warning, Jehan started to struggle, desperate to escape, and was rewarded with a hard slap. In the moment Jehan was frozen with shock the stranger had ripped open Jehans shirt. At this the poet opened his mouth to scream, his attacker merely smirked, punching as hard as he could into the smaller mans side, relishing in the scream of pain from his victim.

The smaller man struggled harder sheer panic rising in his chest as the man pushed him harder into the wall. Jehan felt the attackers lips smash against his own silencing him. The mans tongue forced his mouth open, Jehan felt hot breathe in his throat as the stranger violated every inch of his mouth. Then finally pulling away, he clamped his mouth onto Jehans neck, biting as hard as he could, marking the poet as his possession.

Jehan began a scream of pain only to be cut off halfway by something cold pressing against his throat. "Shhhh" the man breathed into his ear sending tremors through the smaller mans body, his tone mocking. He trailed the knife across his captors heaving chest, so lightly it almost tickled, before making a swift, clean cut. It may have only been shallow but to Jehan it felt as if it were on fire. He squeezed his eyes shut against the pain, trying to think of something, anything but the hellish reality before him.

_Courfeyracs voice, his eyes. The way he holds me so tenderly. _The poet thought desperately, but if anything this made the tears grow faster.

Jehan hadn't realised that his attacker had moved his hand until he felt his jeans and underwear being pushed down from his thin waist.

Unbridled terror flooded through his chest, his struggles increased, he pushed away his attacker for half a second and began to stagger towards a larger road. But his hopes of escape were dashed when an iron like fist closed around his forearm, hard enough to bruise. Jehan was swung back around hitting the wall with a thud, his arms forced painfully behind his back, he front now pressed to the wall with the stranger now behind him, easily able to do whatever he liked with the poet.

"Please... Leave me alone." Jehan half sobbed, his faced forced against the hard surface, only to be punched again on his side. Wincing, Jehan tried his hardest to twist away from the strangers grip, but it was no use; he was trapped between his attacker and the wall.

He felt the man press into him. Agony shot up his spine, as Jehan let out a scream of pain. The knife pressed against the back of his neck again, forcing him to be silent once more. Again and again the man thrust into him, quickly finding a rhythm. Jehan squeezed his eyes shut, silently pleading for this torture to be over, biting down on his lip hard enough to draw blood, trying to stop himself whimpering in pain.

Courfeyrac had never hurt him like this, he'd always been so kind and gentle_... But Courfeyrac probably won't have me anymore, he'll be repulsed by __me! _The poet thought, grief at the mere thought of living without Couf sent his tears over the edge, streaming down his pale cheeks.

The hands on Jehans arms tightened, nails digging into his flesh, the mans thrusts quickened. Jehan was unable to withhold a gasp of pain as he felt hot liquid blossom deep inside of him.

Finally satisfied the man stepped back, letting the poet slump to the ground, every inch of his body aching. But the man clearly wasn't done using the younger. As Jehan took a shaky breath, a foot kicked him hard in the chest, the poet was sure, as the fiery pain licked higher, that he heard his rib break, a hand slapped him hard across his already bruised face, causing Jehan to fall sideways, only to be dragged up again for more pain.

Amother punch, another kick, the pain went on and on. Jehan was beaten, until he could no longer make a sound or even flinch away. Then, without warning it stopped.

A hand grabbed him roughly by the hair, dragging him to his feet, and forcing Jehan to look at his attackers wicked smile.

"Don't worry," the stranger whisper, his voice barely audible "I'll find you again. You belong to _me_ now," he pushed his face forward, kissing Jehan roughly, biting down on his already bleeding lip, a fresh gush of blood trickling into both of their mouths. The stranger smirked once more, before throwing the smaller man to the ground. Jehans already broken body protested at the impact with the hard stones, but there was nothing he could do.

But with a small surge of relief he realised that the man was gone.

Painfully slowly, Jehan pulled his jeans higher. The effort making black spots pop in front of him.

'_My friends were right. I am useless' _Jehan thought before he slipped into the blackness.


	2. Chapter 2

Joly sighed as he walked quickly through the darkened streets. He wished that he'd taken the car... But at least the fresh air would do him good.

He hoped Taire would be okay; he hadn't seen them have a fight that bad before. He would be okay though; Bahorel had stayed with him in the apartment (Enjolras had decided to stay with Combeferre for the night) so at least there was someone there to keep an eye on him, and Bahorel had sworn to call Joly if there were any problems, so the best thing he could do was to try not to worry.  
Worrying is bad for your health, and health is important!

The medical student was snapped out of his thoughts by his phone beeping. Snatching it out of his pocket, the hypochondriac smiled as he saw a text from Bossuet.

_**How's R? Is Bahorel still with him?  
Me and Chetta are waiting for you, get home soon :) and be careful!  
Xxx B**_

Joly couldn't help but smile even wider, as he began typing his reply.

_**Bahorel is going to stay with him, he's same as he was earlier,  
I'm on my way xxx :-)**_

Pushing his phone deeper into his pocket, the medical student sped up. The streets were dark by now, the occasionally street lamp casting a ghostly light upon the pavement, every now and then a roar of a car would reverberate though the darkened passageways.

More worries filled Jolys mind. _Would R be okay? Not just emotionally, but physically. Everyone had said that Joly had been making a fuss over Grantaire, but it might get worse! Injuries could get infected! Even small injuries; R's split lip could easily pick up infection. It could concede Septicaemia! that is a really bad disease, it could kill, or leave the victim very weak or-_

A muffled whimper came from Jolys right. The medical student stopped.

The sound had come from within a smaller alleyway.

A moment slipped by.

Should he investigate? Joly wasn't sure; walking into a dark alley in Paris in the middle of the night wasn't a good idea if you were with someone, but doing it alone and unarmed was potentially fatal.

Another moment passed.

Another cry of pain.

This time Joly couldn't remain where he was; this after all was the reason he'd studied medicine, he'd wanted to help people.  
Summoning all he courage the young man stepped away from the lit pavement and into the shadowy side street.

"H-hello," Joly said shakily, squinting down the shabby street. A solitary streetlight flickered a little way off, it's saturated light bleaching everything an ugly amber colour.

A muffled noise came from somewhere nearby, out of the corner of his eye Joly spotted something moved.  
Swallowing Joly moved closer to the huddling body, before realising with a sickening jolt that he recognised the man on the floor.

"Jehan? Oh my God, Jehan!" Joly gasped, unable to believe it was indeed his dear friend Prouvaire.

The younger man was curled into a ball on the damp stone floor, his shirt ripped open, blood drying on the dirty fabric. His blonde hair had fallen out of its neat braid, some strands sticking to Jehans clammy forehead, other were stiff with red streaks. More blood coated the skin around his mouth, his lip split. Joly shivered as the bloody poet raised his head; dark purple bruises were dotted across one side of his face, making his skin look even paler.

And that was just the injuries that were visible at a glance in the half light. Stunned Joly knelt forward, carefully trying to raise Jehan from the ground, but he merely flinched at his friends touch, his eyes hollow and terrified. A muffled whimper escaped his pain tightened lips. Jolys heart shattered; of all the members of les Amis, in fact of everyone he knew, Jehan was the one whom least deserved this! How could anyone do this to him? Who would what to put the innocent poet through such pain?

"Jehan who did this to you?" Joly asked, as softly as he could. At the question tears welled in the smaller mans eyes, and he looked away, but not before Joly caught a glimpse of his face; was that shame? The medical student wondered.

Jehan started to tremble, making his friend experience a new wave of pity and guilt.  
"Shhhh, it's okay Jehan, you're going to be alright," Joly whispered, trying to draw him into a hug. As his friend put a slight pressure on his chest, Jehan lurched, a yelp of pain ripping itself from his throat. Panicking slightly, Joly pulled back the tattered remains of Jehans shirt and swallowed. Dark bruises were already growing across the poets chest, not to mention a long gash across his stomach. The bruises were already a dark hue, confirming Jolys suspicions that the impact which caused them had been very hard; it wasn't unlikely that the poet had one or more broken ribs.

Making up his mind Joly began to raise Jehan to his feet, taking as much of the other weight as he could. Joly was a medical student and he needed to examine his patient, but a dark dingy alleyway in the middle of the city wasn't the ideal place to do so... But where was? Jehans apartment was too far, as was Combeferres, which would have been ideal, as he was also a medical student. However, Joly realised that he would probably have sufficient equipment to help Jehan at his apartment. Also Bossuet was staying at Chettas tonight, so that would actually be better.

Deciding that his apartment was the best place to take Jehan, Joly started to move off in the direction of his apartment block. But as the pair tried to walk, Jehan crumpled, agony etched across his face

Joly hesitated, his heart telling him one thing and his head telling him something else. Moving Jehan right now would mean complete agony for the poet, but on the other hand leaving him here was unthinkable... No he needed to get Jehan back his apartment as soon as possible.

"I'm so sorry," Joly whispered to his friend as he forced himself to set off again, hauling the barely conscious Jehan behind him.

Courfeyrac paced up and down the apartment he shared with Jehan.

It was the morning after the argument they'd had, yet the poet still hadn't returned home. The dark haired student pulled out his phone once again, still nothing.

Why had he done it? Okay maybe Jehan had been the one to start the fight, but it had been him, Courfeyrac who'd taken the argument to a whole new level. which had ended with the love of his life walking out the door, leaving him... Maybe forever.

Oh why had he done it? Why had he called Jehan weak? He wasn't weak; he was the strongest person Courfeyrac knew. He never gave in, and he never gave up.

But now he was gone.

Courfeyrac sat down on the squashy sofa, drumming his fingers nervously on the arms, feverishly checking his phone again.

Still nothing.

Courfeyrac considered sending another text. But he knew it would be useless, he'd already sent 4...

Standing up again he snatched up his laptop. No new emails.

He checked his phone again. No new messages.

He even crossed to the letterbox, to check the mail (okay it was a long shot, but Jehan would sometimes write letters to Courfeyrac). No new letters.

Returning to his seat by the window, the dark haired man started to tap his foot again.

He couldn't take this anymore. With a huff he snatched up his mobile, dialling Jehans number.

It went straight through to voicemail, had Jehan switched his phone off? Ignoring this, Courf swallowed and left a message, unable to keep some of the guilt out of his voice:  
"Jehan, I'm sorry about last night, would you please just come home so we can talk abut this? Love you," Courf hung up feeling awkward abut the last part of the message.

Sighing, Courfeyrac went back to tapping his foot and staring at the door waiting for his lover to return.

It was just past noon when Courfeyrac lost it. With what was almost a growl he picked up his phone, and started to scroll through the contacts. He really hadn't wanted any other members of les Amis getting involved, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

... But who would Jehan go to?

Perhaps he'd go and stay with Grantaire, after all he'd just had a fight with his boyfriend. Jehan probably felt as though he'd understand R the most, and he might have wanted to check on him.

Grantaires number dialled. The phone was answered on the first ring, and he heard pleading in the slightly slurred voice of Grantaire " 'njolras I'm sorry I was a dick! I'm sorry and-"  
"Taire it's me for Christ sake!"  
"Oh... hey Courf," the misery in R's voice was tangible.  
"Grantaire, is Jehan with you?" Courf asked, nerves tingling.  
"No," the other man was clearly caught off guard by the question.  
"Have you seen him at all?"  
"Not since last night. Why?" Grantaire asked picking up on the fear in his friends voice.  
"It's nothing," Courfeyrac muttered, not wanting to share what had happened with anyone.  
"Courf, what's wrong?"  
"It's nothing! Will you just drop it!" Courfeyrac snapped, his anxiety making him angry at the drunkards nosiness.

With a hiss, Courfeyrac hung up.

He was about to slid the phone back into his jeans pocket, when it rang again. Ripping it open he practically yelled "Look, R, just fuck off, Okay? it's none of your business!"

"Courf, it's me!" Courfeyrac blinked, recognising Jolys voice.  
"Oh, sorry Joly. What's up?" Courf asked, trying to sound interested, and to stop thinking about his missing boyfriend.

"It's Jehan," Joly said quietly. In an instant Courfeyrac was on his feet.  
"What?"  
"He's... he's been hurt. I think you should come round to my place."

Courfeyrac as frozen to the spot where he stood. Jehan... Hurt! His blood seemed to have turned to ice in his veins.

Taking a deep breath Courfeyrac asked "Is he going to be okay?"

**TBC  
~ ~ ~**

**Please leave a review, It'll be much appreciated. I'll give you a cookie :)**


	3. Chapter 3

Dim morning light softened the window, when Jehan forced his eyes open.  
Everything hurt.

His cuts burned, his face stung, his hips throbbed. His entire being seemed to ache.

Something touched his side, with a strangled cry Jehan sat up, despite his bodies screaming protest.

"Jehan, it's okay! It's me!"Jehans eyes focused on the Joly, as he realised that he was inside an apartment, _he was safe!_ He repeated the words again and again, but the message seemed to refuse to register in his brain.

Joly stood watching him for a while, letting the poet calm down before he said awkwardly "I've cleaned all the cuts on your face, they should heal fine..."

Jehan nodded, silent tears streaming down his cheeks.  
"But that wasn't all of it," Joly stated, brown eyes flickering with concern for a second before it was replaced by the a blank stare. Right now he wasn't Jehans friend, he was his doctor.

Jehan shook his head, the tears coming faster. "I'm fine," he said, his voice soft from crying. "Really, there's nothing hurt except for my face."

"Jehan, I saw you last night; the marks, your clothes, everything... I-I know what happened" Joly said as comforting as he could, resting a hand lightly on Jehans shoulder, his fingers near the bite mark as though he was trying to make a point. A short whimper escaping the injured one's mouth before he quickly bit it off.

Swallowing, Joly sat down beside his friend "I've checked all the injuries, there will be quite a lot of bruising, especially, em... Lower down," Jehan flinched, making Joly continue quickly "I cleaned the cut on your stomach, it had worried me, because it was quite large, so I sterilised it. But I haven't bandaged it yet, I just want to let it breathe slightly. You cracked some ribs, but I can't really do anything about them, I'm sorry. You'll be able to walk and everything, but you'll just have to be careful, and coughing might be painful. I think that we should really call the police as soon as-"

"No!" Jehan screamed making Joly jump, his eyes now huge and terrified "Please don't tell," Jehan sniffled, shakily raising his head "I'm fine...really."

Joly shook his head slightly, his face disbelieving._ The best thing would be to call the police, they could help find the bastard who did this... unless Jehan already knew who it was?_  
"Who did this to you?" Joly asked, softly, pulling the other gently closer to him, putting an arm around his shoulder, comforting him as much as possible. Jehan flinched slightly, his chest painful to touch, before relaxing.

"Tell me Jehan," Joly repeated when the other stayed silent.  
"I, I don't know" the poet whispered, his voice breaking, he buried his face into Jolys shoulder, crying once more. The medical student supported his friend, but each tear and muffled sob broke his heart into piece._ How could this happen to Jehan? He was the last person on the earth to deserve it._

"Please don't tell Joly...please..." The blue eyes pleaded for the tiny bit of mercy; to have his secret kept.

"What about Courf?" Joly whispered, his friend looked away "I've told him to come over, Jehan, he needs to know,"  
"But he'll hate me," Jehans voice was so quiet that Joly could barely hear him "We had an argument, Joly, and he was so angry... That's why I was outside last night," he took a deep breathe but was unable to keep a hysterical note from his voice "And I was unfaithful, and he won't take me back! I've got no where else to go, I'll lose all my friends, and... and-" the young man was interrupted by a bout of coughs.

"... How can you say that Jehan? He loves you, okay? He won't give a damn about a stupid argument that you had," Joly continued, his brow creased with anger "And never say that you were '_Unfaithful_' never! Don't you dare say that, don't even think it! Jehan, promise me?"

Jehan cringed away from the angry man, which just made Joly sigh, he shouldn't have gotten angry... But it's not right that Jehan feels guilty for this!

"I wouldn't be able to look him in the eye," Jehan muttered as Joly started to help him lie back down.  
"If that's really the problem then I can tell him Jehan." Joly said as soothingly as possible.  
"Would you really Joly?" Jehan breathed looking up at his friend as though he'd grown wings and a halo.

"I will, but I'm still not sure about not telling the police, I won't, but we need to talk about it later. You just get some rest now." Joly muttered, dragging the bed sheets higher, and gently tucking them around Jehan, before turning to leave.

"Joly," the medical student turned upon hearing the voice, so small and fragile it was scary "Thank you," Jehan whispered, his blue eyes looking half dead with exhaustion.  
"You're welcome," Joly replied with a half smile, before he left the poet to get some much needed sleep.

* * *

Nervous, Joly sat in the living room, next to the one his patient was sleeping in. _What was he going to say to Courf? He was starting to wish that he hadn't made the promise to Jehan... But he had been through enough, the least Joly could do was tell his boyfriend._

A car stopped abruptly, the door slammed louder than necessary and hurried footsteps were easily heard. Sighing Joly got to his feet and peered out of the window; Courf's car was easily visible, parked badly near the pavement.

Joly opened the door on the first knock, not wanting to wake Jehan, and revealed a very red eyed Courfeyrac.  
"Is he okay? What happened? Where is he?" The dark haired student spoke quickly as he stepped forcefully into the apartment looking for his lover.

"Courf, stop, he's in the bedroom, he's asleep, and you need to let him," Joly said firmly as the taller man started towards the place where his lover lay. "It's the quickest way he'll heal," Joly continued, trying his best to lead his friend to the sofa.

"W-what happened? Is he going to be okay?" Courfeyrac spluttered, as he allowed himself to be guided into the soft chair. The curly haired man looked awful, his eyes we wide and blood shot, there were dark circles beneath his eyes; it was obvious that he hadn't slept at all last night.

"He'll be okay, em," Joly fidgeted, as he met Courfeyrac's worried glance "Well, this man, he, er he got, he got beaten, and was hurt. Not really badly," The medical student said quickly, seeing the look of horror on his friends face "He cracked a few ribs, but he'll be okay. The thing is that, before that happened, the man he did some stuff to Jehan..." Joly trailed off into silence waiting for Courfeyrac to understand. But his friends face, though exhausted, still looked confused, forcing Joly to continue.

"I mean really bad stuff, you know? What I mean is that he, he forced himself upon Jehan..."

The words entered the taller mans head, but they didn't seem to immediately register with his brain.  
But as it sunk in, as he realised, Courfeyrac's mind seemed to stop.  
_But he didn't think... How could anyone... __**That bastard!**_

With a sound like a snarl Courfeyrac rose to his feet._ No one, repeat no one! Touches _his_ Jehan!_ Red tainted his view, Courfeyrac wasn't a violent person, that was more Bahorel's area of expertise, but he mentally swore that he would find this son of a bitch and make him sorry that he was ever born!

"Courfeyrac, calm down!" Courfeyrac came back to reality in time to see Joly standing in front of him blocking his path.  
"Don't take this personally Joly, but if you don't get the hell out of the way within the next five seconds then I'll make you!" The dark haired man hissed, his mind focusing on murder.  
"Courf, what are you doing?" The smaller man said desperately.  
"I'm going to find this-" he couldn't even think of a word foul enough to describe this man "and kill him!"  
"What about Jehan?" The question made Courfeyrac flinch "Don't you think he'll need help? He needs you Courf,"  
Trying to swallow some of his anger, Courfeyrac mumbled "What happened?"  
"I was on my way home from Taire's, I found him on one of the side street. He was obviously hurt, so I had to bring him back here and-"

At his last comment, Courfeyrac's head snapped up "What the fuck, Joly? He's fucking broken his fucking ribs! Why didn't you call a fucking ambulance! The last fucking thing he needs is you fucking dragging him through the fucking city, and fucking-"

Joly closed his eyes and took a deep breath, as Courfeyrac continued his rant, where practically every other word was fuck.

"Courfeyrac, for the love of god!" Joly snapped, the last thing he needed right now was a panicking Courfeyrac "I am aware of what his injuries are, I am a medical student! AND-" Joly raised his voice to stop Courfeyrac, as he opened his mouth to give an angry response. "He's only cracked two ribs, not broken them, the hospital wouldn't be able to do anything more than what I've done. And besides he didn't want to go to the hospital."

At this Courfeyrac simply mouthed wordlessly, seemingly unable to convey all his objections into one sentence "Oh well, _only_ cracked well that _is_ a relief!" He spat sarcastically. Before continuing in a flustered voice.  
"Well... Well, Combeferre said that people with broken ribs can, like, do bad stuff to their lungs," Courf spluttered, glad that he occasionally paid attention to what his friends were saying.

"Again," Joly said patiently "Jehan has cracked a ribs, not broken it, he doesn't have any internal bleeding." The medical student paused before continuing "Though I know it's not a nice though, to be honest if he had internal bleeding, then we would most definitely know about it."

Courferyrac jerked his head up, scowling at Joly, before eventually allowing him to lead him back to where Jehan was sleeping.

Courfeyrac wasn't really angry at Joly, he knew that. When he came to think of it he was sure that he owed his friend more than he could ever hope to repay for finding Jehan. If Joly hadn't been there...

Courfeyrac didn't even want to contemplate the possible outcome.

**~ ~ ~  
I know it's short, but screw this, I'm tired! Courfeyrac is slightly ooc, but it's only because he's worried abut Jehan!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Okay, sorry for the long wait, a family member just died so I haven't really felt like writing recently. Because of that I don't think I did this chapter very well, it's quite boring and not that much happens, but it kind of needs to be here, so sorry for it not quite being in flow with the others, the next chapters get better.**

It was almost Mid-day, and Courfeyrac was still sat next to Jehan. Joly had brought back some of Jehans clothes (Courfeyrac had refused to leave Jehans side).

He simply sat next to the bed, he didn't know if he should stay there to be with Jehan when he finally woke, or if he should give him some space. After all Courfeyrac was probably the last person that Jehan wanted to see right now... Well second last person.

The thought made Courfeyrac grind his teeth together, his finger curled into fists, his nails biting into his palm. For the entire morning guilt and anger had been simmering in his chest and the slightest thought of the criminal who'd done this sent it spiralling out of control.

Huffing a sigh, Courfeyrac stood up, he was exhausted but the was no way that he could sleep. To be honest he was terrified. He couldn't loose Jehan; he was the reason he lived, the little burst of light in Courfeyracs otherwise meaningless life. Even if the small poet couldn't ever forgive Courfeyrac, then he at least wanted to help Jehan get through this no matter how painful it was. The thought of a forever broken Jehan was unbearable.

_And it was all Courfeyracs fault!_

Slumping back into the chair with his head in his hands, Courfeyrac thought back to last night.

* * *

It had started as a simply disagreement, in fact it had basically just been a 'discussion' about Enjy and Taires argument, which had inevitably turned into an argument of their own...

_It had been such a stupid argument!_

Courfeyrac had taken Enjolras' side and Jehan had taken Grantaires... So how the hell had it ended with Jehan storming out of the apartment?

Okay, maybe he had been slightly bias to Enjolras, as he was Courfeyracs closest friend, but even so, Grantaire had been completely out of order for flipping out the way he did. So obviously this is what Courfeyrac had told to Jehan. But evidently it had been a bad idea.

Meaning that Jehan had then proceeded to ask in barely a whisper "So you think it's okay that Enjolras punched Grantaire? Would you do that to me if I'd been rude about you?"

And right at that moment the dark haired man knew that however he answered that question, though he tried his best to answer correctly, it would escalate into a fight. And for once he had been right: after a year of an almost perfect relationship, all the anger was released as they yelled at each other about every single problem they'd ever had. Courfeyrac was complaining about everything Jehan did to annoy him, Jehan was doing the same, but it was noticeable that he kept mentioning Courfs constant flirting, and previous lovers. Courfeyrac couldn't help but notice his lovers recurring subject, causing him to get angrier and angrier. Making him push Jehan further and further until, finally:

"You know what, Courf?" Jehan had said, his voice oddly calm, the poet looked like he had been trying his hardest to finish speaking before he had to stifle his sobs.

"Why don't you just go and stay at one of your old 'friends' places?! Go have a really good time. Just don't come crawling back to me once you get bored, got it? It really hurts to be with a slut like you, who doesn't care about me at all, so if you're going to treat me like shit—" Courfeyrac couldn't suppress a small gasp: Jehan would hardly ever swear, even when he was furious it would take a lot to get him to curse. But by now he was almost shouting "—then I'm not going to stay with a guy who barely knows what a relationship is other than sex!"

_Ouch._

_That had hurt...  
Quite a lot._

_Quite a fucking lot... _

And suddenly someone was shouting again. It took Courfeyrac a long time to realise that it was him.  
"Maybe I will go and stay with one of them! At least they're not weak, pathetic little poets!"  
_Shit._

The moment the words were out of his mouth Courfeyrac wished he hadn't spoken them.

Courf didn't see his boyfriends reaction; Before Courfeyrac could even regret his hurtful words the poet had walked out the door. It was at that moment that Courfeyrac took a second to ponder his life and how this was probably the most stupid and ashamed he'd ever felt... _Hell! This was the fuck-up to end all fuck-ups _(and that's coming from Courfeyrac).

Obviously he had run after him, shouted begged for him to come back. He'd called and texted, left messages, he'd even driven around for almost an hour trying to find him, but in vain.  
Obviously the poet didn't want to talk to Courf right now, so the dark haired man had returned to their apartment, thinking that he would find Jehan in the morning and literally beg for forgiveness.

But of course he didn't sleep at all that night.

* * *

_Why couldn't it have been him? At least he would have deserved it for being a terrible human being._

_Not Jehan! Never Jehan._

He was young, kind, and loving. He saw beauty in everything, how could this happen to him? He had never done anything wrong, he'd always done everything right, he'd played by the rules. He had brought innocence to an otherwise coldly realistic group of people. But now he had been crushed.

And as he already said, it was completely Courfeyracs fault. He had been even more of a hurtful, careless bastard than usual.

... Well Courfeyrac knew that even if Jehan forgave him (which he doubted) he would never forgive himself for it.

A small sound of pain from next to him, made Courfeyrac raise his head from his hands.

The poet had shifted slightly in his sleep, curling his body round to the side. His thin arms wrapped around himself.

For Courfeyrac it was the last draw: he simply couldn't stay there anymore, it was too painful.

Heart pounding he stood up, about to leave when another small sound reached him. Turning around his eyes fell once more on the broken body curled across the bed. Still looking tiny and shattered, bruises swelling across his small neck. But now, his pale blue eyes were surveying the room in a terrified manner, his small limbs trembling uncontrollably.

It was the kind of look that made Courfeyrac desperate to wrap his boyfriend up in his arms and hold him until everything was okay. But it would never be 'okay'. After this Jehan would never be okay again.

Courfeyrac had wanted to see if Jehan was fine to be around him, to see if he was seeking physical contact after what had happen to him... But upon seeing that one petrified glance in the younger mans eyes, he knew that he couldn't let him face this, feeling alone.

In two strides he had crossed the room. His arms wrapping themselves gently round Jehans neck, his hand lightly squeezing the others.

The reaction was immediate; the second Courfeyrac touched Jehan, his entire body tensed up, as though burned. His back arched despite his ribs screaming protest, his expression going from terrified to completely and utterly blank. But, as Courfeyrac saw this look, whilst pulling away due to Jehans reaction, he felt a terrible sense of foregoing settling in his stomach. The unfathomable depth of pure, and blank emotionless scared him more than any injury could.

Courfeyracs voice seemed to crack slightly, he didn't know what to say.  
"Joly said you were hurt," it was a statement rather than a question, and it hadn't been what Courfeyrac had intended to say. More than anything the student wanted to wrap the smaller man in his arms once more, hold him close and tell him that it would all be okay. But Courfeyrac knew that he didn't deserve to touch Jehan, he knew that he would only end up hurting him again. Plus he wasn't sure what the poets feelings about him were; whether or not trying to comfort Jehan would help him or just make thinks worse.

The blonde just shook his head as though trying to ignore the other man all together. He was now sat up partially, his chest struggling to draw each breath through his battered ribs.

"I'm fine," Jehan croaked looking anywhere but at Courfeyrac.  
The dark haired man remained silent, desperately trying not to let his emotion get the better of him; the last thing he needed now was to fucking burst into tears!

"You were right Courf, I am pathetic,"  
"No, you-" Unable to stop himself Courfeyrac reached forward, the flinch from Jehan silenced him, crushing what little positivity he had left.

Courf had to see, he had to check for himself the extent of the damage that monster had done.

Swallowing Courfeyrac reached out once more, but this time he went as slowly as possible, trying to make Jehan relax, before he touched him.  
Nothing. The young man didn't seem to be breathing. Courfeyrac waited for the reaction, for the the blonde to finch away, start yelling, burst into tears... Anything! Just not the silent empty shell that was now facing him.

But with every second Courfeyrac kept up physical with his boyfriend, Jehan seemed to draw further and further inside himself.

Gingerly, Courfeyrac pressed Jehan backwards till he was lying on the bed, before he rolled up Jehans shirt. He was unable to stop his eyes widening in horror at the sight greeting him. Gashes crisscrossed over his chest, dark bruises marred the pale flesh. Nails had been racked across his shoulders, on his hips were marks from a pair of hands, gripping far too tightly. Each perfect curve of the poets body seemed lost beneath a bruise or cut.

Jehans beautiful body, which Courfeyrac had once known ever inch of was now unrecognisable.

"Courf, stop," Jehan whispered, his voice barely carrying. With a jolt the dark haired man realised that he had unknowingly begun to yank at the shirt, pulling at Jehans tender flesh.

"This isn't right! I'm not just going to sit and- I can't- Jehan, we need to go to the police!" Courfeyrac pleaded.

"No, you can't-"  
"I have to!"  
"Courfeyrac if you dare tell the police then I will never speak to you again!"  
"You can't just make me-"  
"Leave me alone!"  
Jehans hoarse shout echoed into sudden silence. "Courfeyrac," his voice was clearer now, but just as broken as before, as he repeated "Leave me alone."

"Jehan-"  
"I don't want you around," the poet was now looking Courfeyrac straight in the eye, but there was no feeling there. The little glimmer of life that defined Jehan was gone.

The front door rattled, before opening, signalling Jolys return.

Courfeyrac turned, the back of his eyes stung, his insides screaming in pain.

_Don't cry, do not cry!_

His mind was so focused on his task he didn't look to see the pain reflected in Jehans eyes, or answer Joly when he called out to him, or even look where his feet were carrying Him. He just had to keep going, because if he stopped, he knew full well that he wouldn't be able to start again.


End file.
